No, She's Sleeping with the PE Teacher
by MrSpiderlegs
Summary: Greg Lestrade has a kid. His divorce, involvement with Sherlock, Mycroft, and John, and A Study in Pink through to the Reichenbach Fall as seen through the eyes of Rupert Lestrade.
1. Chapter 1

Rupert Lestrade was six years old when Mummy made Daddy leave. He was sitting on the landing listening to them fight, even though Daddy had told him not to. He heard Daddy open and shut the door, but he knew he hadn't left because he didn't hear steps. Mummy dashed to the back of the house, probably to cry or to ring Mr Edwards. Mr Edwards taught Rupert PE. Rupert wasn't very fond of him. He smelled funny and was always eating something.

Rupert tip-toed down the rest of the steps and carefully opened and shut the door so he was standing next to where his Daddy was sitting. Daddy was sitting on the step with his hands over his face. Rupert trotted up to him and wound his arms around his Daddy's neck. Daddy was surprised to see him.

"Ripper? You're supposed to be in bed, daffy tot." Daddy called him daffy a lot, but he meant it in a sweet way. When Mummy called him daffy it was in a scolding way.

"Are you going to leave?" Daddy pulled Rupert into his lap. He smelled like sweat and beer and policeman. Policemen have a distinct smell, Rupert thought. They smelled like superheroes. Or donuts. Policewomen had a different smell. Rupert wasn't sure what to call it so he just thought 'bionic woman'. Sally liked it when he told her that.

"D'you want me to leave?" Rupert tightened his arms in response. He went as far as to wrap his legs around his Daddy's waist so he was clinging to him like an octopus. Rupert saw an octopus at the aquarium and decided, then and there, that he wanted to have one when he was grown up. All good pirates should have a sea-friend. Just in case the ship capsized and he needed to swim to safety.

"I'm afraid Mummy and me have had a bit of a falling out." Daddy was brushing his hand over Rupert's hair now.

"I." Rupert corrected. Daddy butted his head against Rupert's and smiled with his eyes.

"Mummy and _I _have had a bit of a falling out. So I have to stay some where else for a while." Rupert did not like this at all, but he had had a feeling it would happen.

"Because of murderers and robbers and fire-starters interrupting Sunday dinner?" He felt Daddy hesitate.

"That's part of it, yeah." Rupert tucked his nose against Daddy's neck. It was a little nippy out.

"And the beer is another part?" Daddy stiffened. Rupert wondered if he shouldn't have said that, but Daddy relaxed. Well, it's more like he sagged, like all the air had been let out of him.

"Yeah, that's another part," he croaked. Rupert put a tiny hand on his Daddy's forehead to check if he was sick, but Daddy caught his hand before it could get there, and kissed it. "You know I love you, right, Ripper?" Daddy started calling him Ripper when his teeth grew in and he started biting everything. He used to call him Rupee. Rupert knew this because of home videos.

"I love you too, Daddy." Rupert loved both his Mummy and his Daddy. There was a girl in his class who announced that her Daddy was a cad and had been having relishes with the maid and that she hated him. Rupert didn't understand what the big deal with relish was but he knew his Daddy hadn't had relishes with anyone but his Mummy.

They sat on the step like that, all huddled together, for a long time. Eventually Mummy came to the door, looking for him, and he looked up at her from where he had hidden his face in Daddy's neck. She looked back at him and smiled in a tired way. She wrapped her arms around him and Daddy both, startling Daddy.

"Hey you." She said roughly, her voice hoarse from crying. Her eyes were red, too.

"Hey, you." From the way his head moved, Rupert guessed that Daddy had given Mummy an eskimo kiss. Rupert had thought eskimos were brilliant, until they took a trip up to Cornwall to visit relatives and he realized that snow was awful. And _cold. _

"Come in for a cuppa?" He heard Mummy ask. It must be very early in the morning, then. Rupert looked around. It was still dark.

"Can't, Sarah, I'm sorry." Mummy sighed.

"Had a feeling. Let me make you up a thermos and something to eat, before you go?" Go?

"Go where?" Rupert demanded. Daddy squeezed him.

"The Yard, Ripper."

"Can I come?" He knew Daddy would say no. He just wanted to ask first.

"No, love." Daddy stood up, still holding Rupert. They made their way to the kitchen, but Daddy didn't put Rupert down. Rupert soaked up the attention. His Daddy was usually away chasing murdered and robbers and other bad guys, so he got most of his cuddles from Mummy. While Mummy cuddles were lovely, there was something special about Daddy cuddles. Daddy leaned against the counter while Mummy made tea for the thermos and a bacon sandwich. She had the ingredients out for a fry-up so Rupert guessed that after Daddy left he and Mummy were going to have a Full English Breakfast. Once all was made, Daddy had to put Rupert down. He gave him a loud kiss on the head and said that he might pick him up from school later, but no guarantees. Then he was off.

* * *

(**AN: **So I dunno what it is with me and Kid!fics lately? But I like them and I am writing them. So there. This is going to be a little Mystrade fic and Johnlock might maybe feature in some small way. I dunno maybe Rupert will walk in on them getting their kiss on. Also if anyone watches Buffy you'll understand why I can't really think of any other nickname for 'Rupert' other than 'Ripper'.)


	2. Chapter 2

Rupert Lestrade was seven and a half years old when he met Sherlock Holmes. He was sitting in Daddy's new office, since Daddy had just been promoted to Detective Inspector. Rupert was working on homework and practicing his scales for choir under his breath, when a tall man with mad scientist hair came bursting through the door. Daddy jumped, about to yell, but when he saw the man he just groaned.

"Sherlock, what have I told you about coming to the Yard under the influence?" Rupert frowned, and looked the work up in his dictionary. He wondered whose influence the man was under. When the man started to speak Rupert lost his focus on his homework. His voice was awfully deep.

"Yes, fine, whatever, have you checked the brother? Of course you haven't, you're an idiot." Rupert bristled. Daddy glanced at him and made a covert whirly sign with his finger. You know, the twirl of the finger indicating that someone in the room is off his rocker? That one. Rupert just scowled at the man - Sherlock.

"The brother has an alibi." Sherlock made a disgusted noise. Rupert noticed that he couldn't seem to stay still.

"You need to check the window to the garden. He was out at the pub, came home for fifteen minutes, not that anyone noticed because they were all falling-down drunk, killed her, and slipped out the window before anyone knew he was gone. It's all right there, in his fingernails and on his boots. Did you see his boots?"

"I saw his boots, Sherlock."

"They were filthy. He stepped on a receipt, which I took to Bart's to analyze, and the soil is the exact same as in the garden."

"So, maybe he was doing some gardening?"

"Don't be _stupid, _a man like that, gardening? He's so wrapped up in gender binary it's pathetic. That's why he killed his sister, figured she was overstepping her bounds by leaving her husband and ignoring her father."

"What about his fingernails?" Rupert piped up. Daddy sent him an amused look, and Sherlock looked at him like he'd had no idea he was there.

"What?"

"You said something about his fingernails."

"The paint underneath them. It's the same horrid, medicinal green as the paint around the window. I guarantee that his prints are all around it, too, but you need to go there _now _before he gets rid of the evidence."

"Sherlock, I can't just leave my son - " Daddy protested. Sherlock waved a hand irritably.

"So bring him! He can sit in the car, but you need to come _now._" Rupert was already stuffing his things in his bag.

Sitting in a police car with no police in it was boring. Rupert had finished his homework a long time ago and was practicing "Friday I'm in Love" for his recital. His choir director had found choral remakes of a bunch of rock song but Rupert honestly preferred the Latin hymns they usually sang. He had never been to church or anything but he like the way they sounded.

He jumped, startled, when someone slammed open the door. Sherlock was shoved in the back seat with a barked order of 'stay there'. Rupert twisted around. Sherlock was scowling, and he was tipped sideways with his hands under his chin like he was praying.

"What did you _do?_" Rupert asked in awe. He had been coming to the Yard since he could walk, and he had never cheesed off the police so badly they stuffed him in a cop car. Not even when he stole all their red pens to make a pen house, or all their paperclips to make a chain. Sherlock snorted, but there was something weird about it, and his nose started to bleed a little. Rupert dug around in the driver's side and found a napkin. He stuffed it through the weird leather weave divider.

"Here." Sherlock's eyes snapped open, and those looked a little weird, too. He took the napkin and daintily dabbed at his nose. Rupert figured he must be some kind of posh, with his voice and his mannerisms.

"You breathe through your mouth too much." Sherlock said quietly. Rupert furrowed his brow.

"Wha'?"

"When you sing. You breathe through your mouth too much, it's why you can't hold a note. The breaks aren't long enough to take a deep enough breath." Rupert blinked.

"Oh." He glanced at Sherlock. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he quietly went through his scales. He found that Sherlock had been right. The strange man wore a smug smirk. He sang 'Ave Maria' and a few other Latin songs and sometimes Sherlock joined in. Rupert thought he had a very lovely voice.

About fifteen minutes after Rupert and Sherlock had gotten into a heated debate about musical accompaniment, Daddy opened the driver's side door and sat down inside.

"Hello Daddy, did you catch a murderer?" Rupert asked conversationally. Sherlock snickered.

"Yes, _Daddy, _did you?" Rupert wasn't sure if Sherlock was making fun of him or Daddy and decided to ignore him. Daddy took a deep breath and nodded. Rupert grinned up at him.

"Knew you could do it. Can we get dinner now?" Daddy winced. Rupert's face fell.

"Paperwork?" Rupert asked sadly, and Daddy nodded. Sherlock sighed loudly in the back.

"Pity, I could have gone for a curry." Daddy froze and twisted around to glare at Sherlock. The strange man just beamed at Daddy.

"You are a horrible human being," Daddy growled. Rupert looked delighted. Daddy groaned and rested his head on the steering wheel briefly.

"Alright, we'll get takeaway, but I need to stop at the Yard first." He declared. Rupert cheered and Sherlock smirked.

At the restaurant, while they were waiting for their food to be cooked so they could take it home, Sherlock entertained Rupert by deducing everything about everyone. When Daddy went to pay, Rupert turned to Sherlock and asked,

"How can you do that?" Sherlock looked down at him and pursed his lips.

"I see things." He refused to add anything more and Rupert let it drop. On the way home (Daddy made Sherlock sit in the back again), Rupert tried to practice 'seeing things' on his Daddy. He squinted at him, scrutinizing his face and clothes. At a red light, Daddy turned and looked at him.

"Is there something on my face?" He sounded amused. Rupert looked harder.

"I'm not sure." He frowned. "Daddy why haven't you shaved? Is it because the case was long?" Before he could answer, Rupert added, "Or maybe the murderer was hard to catch? Were you scared he would kill again?" Daddy looked at Sherlock in the rearview mirror.

"I blame you for this." Sherlock put on his most innocent face which, to be honest, wasn't all that innocent.

"I haven't shaved because I haven't had time to properly sleep and go through my routine, because, yes, the case was long and I was scared the murderer would kill again." Rupert looked pleased with himself. Daddy looked back at the road.

"Why don't you try that on Sherlock?" The man scowled at Daddy, but Rupert just squirmed around in his seat until he could properly see him.

"Well," He drew the word out. "His hair isn't brushed and I bet his teeth aren't, either." He looked harder but it was difficult to see clearly in the dark. "Oh," Rupert frowned. "Your clothes don't fit." He wracked his brain, but the only thing that came to mind was the last time he went to Kensington with Mummy and she pulled him away from a dirty looking man in clothes that didn't fit. "Have you been sleeping rough? That's not good. Can't you stay with your Mummy and Daddy?"

"Sherlock doesn't get on with his Mummy and Daddy, Ripper." Rupert frowned, deep in thought.

"Well then can't he stay with you?" Daddy didn't say anything, and Rupert noticed that Sherlock made a point of not looking at Daddy. He had a feeling there was something he should see there but he didn't know what it was. They pulled into the garage at Daddy's new flat. He let Rupert and Sherlock out and they made their way upstairs with the food. Sherlock looked like he wanted to leave but Rupert just turned what his Mummy called his 'sad puppy eyes' on him. The eyes worked on Daddy and it looked like they worked on Sherlock, too.

Later, when Rupert's belly was full of curry chicken and coconut rice, he stumbled over to Daddy and crawled onto his lap. Daddy shifted to that he could cuddle and still do the paperwork he had brought home. Sherlock was curled up on the couch, dead to the world. This, Rupert thought sleepily, was probably as close to perfect as a night could get.


End file.
